Where We Stand
by DZHoneyBee
Summary: "You are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars." A collection of Hotch/Reid one-shots. Will feature other characters eventually.
1. The Beast Sitter

**Summary: Reid is left to babysit Jack while Hotch attends a Bureau dinner and things don't go as swimmingly as either of them planned. **

**"The Beast Sitter"**

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><p>5124 Mount Herman Circle was silent as SSA Aaron Hotchner drew up into the driveway, steering his black SUV around the curved stone until the car sat parked under the shady American sweetgum tree that leaned stubbornly over the garage. Hotch allowed himself a small smile, gathering his go-bag and briefcase from the passenger seat and exiting the vehicle, eager to get inside the house and out of the chipped winter wind that blew the leaves around in swirls on the front lawn. Bright lights from the living room shot out through the partly closed curtains, casting an inviting glow outside and a warm orange color burned from Jack's room on the second floor.<p>

Hotch sighed, hearing the satisfying _click_ of his car locking. The dinner with the Bureau Brass had gone accordingly, albeit tiresomely slow, and by the time the checks were cleared and the offer of après-dinner cigars up in the air, Hotch knew it was time to excuse himself. The promise of returning home to his son and boyfriend - the acting babysitter for the night - was on the seam of his lips but remained unspoken in the professional setting.

He took a moment to look up at the house. His _home_. And it seemed forever ago that Hotch had once thought he would never again enter a family space without the thought of Hayley on his mind. While he was partially right, the lonely and loving considerations had eased with the quasi-permanent addition of one tall genius and the definite addition of one small flaxen-haired seven-year-old who held a certain starry-eyed affection for said genius.

Hotch continued his way up the stone path but before he could even dip his hand into the outer pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve his key, the navy front door was almost comically flung open, revealing the slender figure of one Dr. Spencer Reid.

"You're son is a wild beast who needs to be tamed." He announced hysterically, grabbing Hotch by the wrist and hauling him into the carpeted foyer.

"What happened?" Hotch's eyebrows flew up, though he was only mildly alarmed. His boyfriend of over a year had a certain tendency to dramatize his time with Jack Hotchner. "Where's Jack?"

He began to lean in to press a quick kiss hello to Reid's rambling lips but was halted when the younger agent grabbed his face between his palms and held it away, Hotch's cheeks smashed together.

"Spence?" Hotch murmured. "Where's Jack?" He repeated. His heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation and concern.

This wasn't Reid's first time babysitting Jack but it was definitely the longest. Hotch hadn't expected the dinner to last as long as it did but after a quick text to Reid requesting that he bathe his son and tuck him into bed, he had thought the agent could handle it.

Obviously he was wrong.

"I don't want to say." Reid sighed, releasing his grasp on his lover's face.

"Is he safe?" Hotch made a move to step around Reid but his partner was faster than he was and darted in front of him, a hand to his chest.

"Technically, yes."

"_Spence_-" Hotch's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where is my son? Is he hurt?" He grasped Reid by the shoulders and moved him to the side before climbing the stairs two at a time. "_Jack_! Buddy?"

"He was like a wild UnSub, Aaron! I couldn't control him!" Reid suddenly burst out, taking after Hotch up the stairs. "It's not my fault!"

Hotch turned. "What the hell is going on Spencer?"

Reid huffed before leaning his head against the wall that ran along the staircase. "He's running around in his room. _Naked_." He sighed. "He refuses to put on clothes."

"_My son is running around naked upstairs?"_ That was apparently the only thing Hotch had heard and he immediately began to rush up the stairs.

"He's a _beast_! I told you!" Reid's voice grew fainter and more hysterical as Hotch neared his son's room.

"Jack? Buddy? Daddy's home." Hotch approached the bedroom door. _Was he seriously dealing with this? _"Were you being….._beastly_ to Spencer tonight?"

"Was not!" Jack immediately appeared in the doorway, indeed naked with a cross look on his face.

The boy already had his father's patent glare down by the petulant age of seven.

Hotch squatted down, his brow drawn together in impatience and concern. He felt Reid's presence behind him.

"He wouldn't take a bath so I tried to explain to him what happens when bacteria accumulates on clothing and all the dirt kids pick up during the day." Reid huffed again, crossing his arms.

Hotch had to stifle an _Oh, Christ_ as he realized Reid had probably just turned his son into a total mysophobic. "Jack. It's time to put some clothes on."

"NO!" Jack's frown intensified.

"Jack, Daddy needs you to put on your pajamas. It's way past your bedtime." His tone was firmer this time.

"I said no!" A small stomp of a foot on the carpet this time.

'Your pajamas aren't dirty. Spencer was just trying to explain why you needed a bath." Hotch cocked an eyebrow at Reid, who moved to sit next to him in the threshold to Jack's room. His patience was wearing thin.

"Hey Jack? If I pull a coin from behind your ear will you put on clean clothes?" It was a sudden inspiration on Reid's part and Jack looked up quickly, curiosity painting his flushed face.

"I bet you can't."

"Oh, I don't know Jack. Spence is a pretty good magician." Hotch smiled, his concern forgotten. He admired Reid stepping in, despite the fact that it was his fault for getting them into the situation in the first place.

Reid was grateful he always kept a coin in the sleeve of his shirt and Jack grinned and ran back into his room when a small silver dime appeared in Reid's fingers.

"You're awesome!" The boy reappeared in an instant and threw his arms around Reid's neck.

Reid chuckled, strangely comfortable. "Well you were holding out on me, man!" He held out a hand for Jack to high-five and the boy met it with enthusiasm.

"Daddy will you read me a story?"

Reid knew it was his cue to return downstairs to clear up the mess of dinner and Hotch's knees cracked with effort as he stood and ruffled his son's hair.

"Of course. Go pick out a book." He urged as Jack disappeared.

"I'll be downstairs." Reid smiled, starting back down the stairs.

"Hey I didn't get my kiss hello." Hotch quipped, grabbing Reid's collar and pulling him close. Their lips met in a sweet, chaste greeting. "Thank you for doing this tonight."

Reid grinned. "Your son is still a beast."

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><p><strong>Hope you guys liked that little one-shot! More like those to come! Please review!<strong>


	2. Letters Home

**Summary: Sometimes only the hardest of feelings could be put down on paper**.

**"Letters Home"**

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><p>There were hundreds of them. Maybe even a thousand if Aaron Hotchner took the time to page through all of them. All matching with their cream linen paper, bound in a slim booklet and printed with <em>Mr. Aaron Hotchner, 5124 Mount Herman Circle, Quantico, Virginia, 22135 <em>in the small, perfectly atrocious handwriting of a Dr. Spencer Reid, they were the letters the young agent had written to his lover during his time in Afghanistan.

Sealed but never sent, they had been locked away in the drawer of a bedroom bureau until Hotch had stumbled across them while looking for a tie bar.

The rain fell like the most intricate of veils, thunderous against the misted glass of the house. It was relentless and unforgiving but ignored. The fiery red taillights of a passing car swept through the window, casting shadows over the furniture and Hotch sank heavily into the welcoming material, drawing his feet up under himself and pulling the thick pile of envelopes from the coffee table into his lap.

They felt warm under his fingertips and their corners of some were softened with age.

Silence spilled through the room and through the rest of the house, but Hotch didn't feel the weight of the emptiness. He felt the weight of a thousand words in his hands. The words of the man he loved and Hotch wondered if Reid had written them with the hope that Hotch would write back; maybe return to his life a little sooner, a little brighter.

As Hotch thumbed over them, letting his fingers caress the softness of the envelopes and the ridges of the pattern on the paper, he noticed some of the letters had been stained with the tongue pink wax of a candle while others were singed almost all the way around the edge as though Reid had began to burn them but then couldn't bring himself to.

There were hundreds, overflowing from the man's hands and Hotch couldn't help but feel his heart squeeze and release in sadness of only just discovering them now. The silence became almost deafening and he tore at the top of one of the envelopes, slicing the paper in two to retrieve the letter.

The paper was empty. Hotch turned it over and then turned over the next, and the next and the next until he came to the last page that had been bound.

Only five words were scrawled at the very end of the paper, in the corner.

_I miss you, come home. _

Hotch was suddenly ravenous for the rest of them and he began to tear at the paper, grabbing at letter after letter. Most of them were long letters, some were short and some were frenzied drawings where words had escaped Reid's mind and some were nothing but barren pages and pages of emptiness. There were letters crumpled with desperate tears, letters with the pages torn in half.

Letters, letters..

_Today at work…_

_I thought about the time we…._

_Jack told me he talked about you at…._

_Morgan says…_

_I miss you…._

_Come home, Aaron…_

_I love you, Aaron…_

_Aaron, I need you….._

_I'm drowning, Aaron…_

_Aaron. Aaron…._

_I couldn't get out of bed…_

_I cried myself to sleep…_

_JJ…._

_No one understands…._

_Heart like shattered glass…_

_Aaron, I..._

_Jack and I are weathering the storm..._

_You are my sun…._

_You are my moon…._

_You are all of my stars…._

_I love you, Aaron…_

_When will you be home…._

_Be safe..._

_I'm in over my…._

_I can't wait to kiss…._

_I need your lips…_

_I cried at work…_

_The cravings, Aaron…_

_I can't do this…_

_I'm so alone…._

_If I find the will…_

_I need you, Aaron._

_Please, Aaron._

_I need to hear your voice…_

_Jack he…._

_We played for hours…._

_I look to your office…_

_Nothing but emptiness…_

_I love you, Aaron._

_Come back to me, Aaron._

_It rained today…_

_It's getting better..._

_I need to know..._

_Do you miss me..._

_I remember the time we had sex..._

_Am I the exception?_

_Come back to me, sweetheart._

_I want to scream..._

_It's getting harder.._

_Rossi says..._

_I can't stop..._

_I need to do this.._

_Love you, Aaron..._

_I can't wait to see..._

_Remember when we..._

_The weather.._

_I love you.._

_I need you, Aaron..._

_God, I need you.._

Hotch couldn't move. The words escaped from the pages in front of him, searing deep into his chest like the hottest of foils and the hardest of bullets. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the letters and tears squeezed his breath away.

There was nothing to say. He couldn't move.

_Reid…Spencer….he wrote…_

"I would write home everyday you were gone," Reid's voice whispered from behind Hotch and the elder agent almost felt his heart stop as he registered where he was. He whipped around, his eyes wide and fearful.

Reid stood, dressed in one of Hotch's sweatshirts, with Jack securely wrapped in his arms. The golden-haired boy was fast asleep, his legs tangled around Reid's waist and his head on his shoulder.

"I'm going to put him to bed," Reid's eyes glanced to the staircase.

Hotch shook his head.

"You…."

"I know." Reid nodded at the unfinished thought, his eyes dark. "I couldn't bring myself to send them. They were an anchor for me." There was a certain sadness in his voice that Hotch couldn't understand.

"You said you wrote home….you were home though."

Reid's eyes swept over the room before meeting Hotch's. His mouth turned up as he took in the sight of his husband, handsome even in old jeans and a cotton T-shirt that was so old it would probably disintegrate the next time it was put through the wash. But it was so _Aaron_ that Reid didn't complain. _Couldn't_ complain.

He looked down to his son, nestled against his chest as though there would be nowhere else he would rather be. Jack's gentle breathing tickled his neck and he pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead.

This was the life they had built together. This was their whole world.

"Wherever you are, Aaron, that's home."

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><p><strong>Hope you guys liked that one! I am kind of addicted to writing family one-shots now! Maybe a sequel?<strong>

**Please review!**


	3. Everything I Could Never Tell You

***Decided to go back and change a few things. I wanted Hotch's reply to be more simple and meticulous rather than Reid's letters.**

**Summary: It was his perfect reply to the hundreds of letters that feathered his fingers.**

**"Everything I Could Never Tell You"**

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><p><em>Wherever you are, that's home.<em>

Hotch stared at his reflection in the silver frame on his desk. Murky green and grey shadows fell over his face, pouring into the creases around his darkened eyes and mouth but he couldn't tear his gaze away, couldn't pull his thoughts away from the fluttering letters in his hands.

His husband had kissed him goodnight over three hours ago, an almost wickedly suggestive glint in his eye, and had retreated upstairs with Jack. But Hotch had continued to stare at what was in front of him, those five whispered words the only thing consuming his mind.

_Wherever you are…._

_That's home._

_I'm _home, Hotch thought. _He_ was home in his simple jeans and T-shirt. He was home with his legs uncharacteristically crossed and tucked under his thighs. He was home clearing up the bowls filled with leftover Kraft Mac & Cheese and he was home when he would gently lift Reid onto their bed and kiss him with fervor after a late night spent at the office.

_Their life. Their world they had built together. _

His eyes came to rest on the cream paper that lay before him, lifting and dipping under the slight whirl of the lazy ceiling fan in the living room.

The paper was free of any marks or scuffs, vacant and clean, so unlike their relationship.

He toyed with one of the corners, the words of Reid's letters dripping all over his mind, blocking out anything other than the cream sheets in front of him and the pen that had found its way into his hand. The silver felt icy to the touch and Hotch rubbed his thumb over the engraved _Dr. Spencer Reid, _admiring the simple beauty of the spiraling letters.

He knew he wouldn't forget the image of Reid standing there in his Georgetown sweatshirt, holding their slumbering son like it was the most natural thing in the world.

_Like he had been doing it forever. Like their world had never begun but rather had grown out of something so beautiful and infinite._

He tipped his head back, letting the smooth air wash over his face and with slightly shaking fingers he began to write.

He wrote with fluidity, as though the pen was caressing the paper and the words came easily and with abandon. And he knew he could have written something comparable to Reid's letters but he didn't. He chose the simple thought that awakened within his mind. He chose each letter and each word so carefully, so meticulously.

It was his reply.

_My darling Spencer…_

_Wanting you happy was always more important that just wanting you…_

_So I kept my distance, burying myself in my work and in my sorrow…_

_It started that one night you came to me…_

_Over the months when we would run off for the weekend, I began to love the weightless feeling that accompanied us. I felt like the city was ours and nothing could stop us from falling even more in love…._

_And over the years we slipped briskly into an intimacy from which we never recovered…_

_For it was not into my ear you whispered that one night, but into my heart._

_It was not my lips you kissed at our wedding, but my soul. _

Hotch felt the air leave his body as he signed his name, the ink looping over the paper like an endless river. He folded the pages together, careful to keep them bound and then slipped them into an envelope.

His footsteps were muted over the carpeted hallway and Hotch climbed the stairs, winding his way upwards to the bedroom.

He stood with tired eyes shadowed beneath dark brows, one hand on the frame of the bedroom door…the entrance to what was his safe haven…the end to the lies and the deceit and the death and the hatred and the beginning to endless possibilities and endless loving. He stood and he watched as the man he loved with every fiber, every feeling of his, fell into a dreamless lullaby, the dim light sparkling on the planes of his creamy cheekbones.

_Wherever you are, Aaron, that's home._

The words echoed once more in Hotch's mind before he moved with ease over to the bedside table and silently placed the letter on top of Reid's white gold wedding band and his badge.

On top of his roles as a hero and husband.

Hotch slipped beneath the warm sheets and drew Reid close to his body, pressing a small kiss to his lover's temple.

"I'm sorry I never wrote, honey." He whispered, barely a hushed breath before it was swept away into the air.

Reid stirred, his eyes fluttering open and blinking up at his lover. "I waited up for you," he murmured sleepily, his mouth against Hotch's and his tongue gently lapping at his lover's closed lips.

Hotch kissed him back, sweetly and softly and simply tasting all that was his husband. He stroked a hand through Reid's dark caramel-colored hair before moving lower to _ever so slightly_ suck at his earlobe. Reid sighed breathlessly in pleasure, his eyes closing again and his back arching into Hotch's.

"I had to take care of something," Hotch whispered.

He looked to the letter and to the words he had written at the seal, knowing that in his heart and in his head he had written home everyday too.

It read_ Everything I could never tell you._

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><p><strong>Since everyone seemed to love Letters Home, I couldn't resist writing Hotch's response to it! Hopefully it lived up to your guys' expectations! I have proofread this version so many times so I think it's perfect finally! &amp; <strong>**Thank you for all the alerts and favorites and reviews!**

**Please review!**


	4. Iridescence Eternal

**Inspiration finally struck and so I decided to give another go at my recently published story "Iridescence"! Hopefully you'll like this one more as it will be a three-shot!**

**Summary: He felt alone, as though the planet were empty and he was drifting through the cosmos, hands reaching out to the night. There was no answer to his begging. Or maybe he just couldn't hear it.**

**"Iridescence Eternal"**

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><p>Angry winds skated over the lavender sky, turning green and blue with each dip they took and the bleeding red that sank through became a patched grey and mint confection, swept with storm clouds. The rain fell in defeated mists. Somber. Murderous to the unfortunate victims that would become trapped in the showers for the slick water seemed to be able to permeate any material, any shelter, until said victim was a soaking shadow of what they used to be.<p>

Hushed tears sank from the darkened lashes of Dr. Spencer Reid, made even darker from the weak beacon of luminosity coming Jack Hotchner's room high up in the house.

The only sound to break the suppressed quiet was the shuddering breaths the agent took in effort to stop himself from crying even harder, even further into the miserable blank spirit he had worked himself to create.

_Seven weeks. _

Seven weeks since he had seen his lover's face crease up into a secret smile, a little smirk known only to Reid. Seven weeks since he had felt the rough tips of knowledge fingers touch his chest, his jaw, his own hands in a steady caress.

The single thought of Aaron Hotchner's lips pressed to his was enough to spark a new course of tears to run down Reid's pink streaked cheekbones. He buried his face into the threadbare and humid material of Hotch's University of Virginia sweatshirt, desperate to inhale any traces of the man who had left him behind to temporarily assist his former FBI team in Seattle.

_Left behind._

_Defeated. _

Reid dropped his gaze to the floor where his hand lay dangling and he pulled at the hunter green plaid cashmere blanket that had been pushed off the end of the couch. His muscles ached for he hadn't moved in hours since Jack went to bed, and he tugged the blanket over his head.

Through the comforting material of the blanket, Reid could make out the pearly lilac of the breaking dawn. It shimmered almost iridescently, almost oily as the light breached a golden arc as it hit the horizon, and seemed to swoop back down into the swell of the crystal blue sky only to return back for air.

His eyes watered again and he let him sink closed. His mind became fogged with the memory of Hotch's eyes that were so brown, like melting dark chocolate, as they had been as the man lay on the bed, panting and unabashedly begging for Reid to finish him, to make him feel immortal.

It was a moment that Reid considered to be iridescent. Absolutely. Perfect.

And soon after, the news had been broken that Hotch would be leaving the team for a few months, the words a slow drawn out pause that cut at Reid.

He remembered what Hotch had said to him when he stood at the doorway.

"_Everyday we are one day closer. We are one day closer to that day when I will be home."_

The young agent let out a breath as he felt sleep begin to claim his exhausted body, and he let one last shimmering thought glow bright in his mind before Hotch's eyes grew so dark in his vision that everything went black.

He wondered when he would start to believe again.

Believe in himself and in the love that he shared with a man so brave, so determined, so broken that he shattered and recovered with each step taken.

Believe in his own strength to last two more weeks until Hotch returned and that iridescent moment could once again be mimicked, be molded into something higher and brighter.

Believe that he could coax Jack through the last wrings of a saddening and miserable few months, all the while hoping that his skills as a father hadn't dove into the wet concrete ground of the driveway.

But most of all Reid wondered when he would start to believe in happy endings again. Because it seemed as though that one day that held the promise to bring them closer would never appear as the rising sun did now. He let one last shuddering breath take its course, the roaring sound flooding his ear canals so much so that he didn't register the scraping of the key in the front door lock, before he fell into a hard slumber.

He felt alone as he slept, as though the planet were empty and he was drifting through the cosmos, hands reaching out to the night in any sort of plea for a sign that Hotch would be home, would be nearer.

There was no answer to his begging.

Or maybe he just couldn't hear it.

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><p><strong>This will be a three-shot! Please review, lovelies!<strong>


	5. Iridescence Eternal 2

5124 Mount Herman Circle was cloaked in the silvery lunar chill traditional of Virginian Januarys where an onyx Suburban drew up, its industrial wheels crunching over the frozen gravel driveway.

The rain was relentless, a noiseless glass sheet that gushed and drenched the dark figure who emerged from the SUV, grabbed two suitcases and a briefcase from the trunk and pulled his bureau-issued jacket close around his shivering form.

Aaron Hotchner raised his head to look at his house, dewdrops immediately clinging to his eyelashes and soaking through his button-down shirt and suit jacket. His khakis had turned from a beige stone color to a brown reminiscent of a dark oak and his previously shiny loafers felt like lead moving through the pale green swimming pool that had established itself in his flowerbeds.

Through the water and ice that dusted the glass windows, the amber house lights looked bright and inviting as through someone had set fire to the building.

Home.

_Finally_.

His fingers ghosted over the open pocket of his navy canvas jacket and he hitched his go-bag higher on his shoulder. His house key, something he had been fingering for the last seven weeks, felt warm and welcoming in his palm but it wasn't what he was after.

His trembling fingers that ran the ruffled edge of a photo were rough, cut along the tips and calloused from the constant brush against cold and black metal. Damaged from stains from coffee and faded from being left out in the sun, the rain on the photo beaded as soon as Hotch pulled it from his pocket.

He remembered the day, remembered the exact second, that Garcia had captured the image of Hotch uncharacteristically leaning in after a case to gently kiss Reid's temple in a small gesture of reassurance.

Hotch's notion of romance was subtle and sophisticated, something that only the best profilers in the world could pick up on. But the case had driven the team into the ground and Reid's haunted features as they exited the jet had ignited something desperate in the man, some absolute primal urge to comfort his slight lover, and as they had passed one another on the way to the Bureau cars, Hotch had touched his fingers to Reid's elbow and pressed his lips to the younger agent's creamy skin.

It had been a silent promise that _they_ were still okay.

That _Spencer_ and _Aaron_ wouldn't be lost in the darkness of their professions.

Hotch felt rooted to his dampened spot in his driveway as he thumbed at the blurry photo, watching its edges curl under itself, before he carefully folded it back into his suit pocket, patting it to make sure it would dry.

The chill of the rain coursed through Hotch's shivering frame, ripping him into reality, and he grasped his key, turned the lock, and felt the rush of the heated hallway envelope him in a way that made his heart ache for his hazel-eyed sweetheart.

He padded through the living room, his muscles twitching with tiredness and he quietly set down his suitcases and rested his briefcase on the hallway table. The house was hushed, with only the stairway light illuminating Hotch's face. From his position next to the open archway of the kitchen, he could see Jack's bedroom door cracked open just the way he preferred it.

A minute movement caught his dark eye and he pivoted, his hand coming to rest on the Glock 17 on his belt before he registered the short, chestnut hair peeking out from under the plaid blanket that was normally kept on the end of the bed.

Reid was curled up with his hands grasping at what Hotch recognized to be his college sweatshirt. Drying tears sparkled on the planes of his cheekbones and his pink lips were slightly open in a relaxed pout.

Hotch bent down, his hand instinctively coming to thread through Reid's tangled locks. He stroked the silken strands, letting the familiar feeling pulse through his veins. He let his eyes peacefully shut for a few moments as his fingers wandered to brush over his lover's gently sloping nose.

Home.

Absolutely.

_Finally_.

"I'm home, sweetheart," he murmured as Reid shifted his face more into the sweatshirt. "I'm here, I promise." He slipped his hand into his lover's open palm and squeezed gently.

Reid nuzzled his nose into the top of Hotch's rain-slicked hand, letting out small and hot breaths in the simultaneous rhythm that the Unit Chief's heart beat.

The older agent slowly and softly brushed his free thumb across the tears that painted Reid's face and he brought his forehead to rest against his lover's temple.

He let out a breath, closing his eyes.

Relief flooded his heart.

"I'm home, angel. I'm here." He repeated. The more he spoke the words the more he believed them himself. "I've missed you, you know that?" Hotch let out a hint of a slanted smile. "You don't have to cry anymore."

He kissed the warm flesh beneath his lips, letting them trail down to the softened eyelids that covered golden hazel eyes, down over the peach tinged cheekbones and finally to the corner of Reid's mouth, where breathy pants escaped.

"No more crying, honey." He waited a few moments before tucking his hand back into his pocket and pulling out a small golden band.

He had found it in a small jewelry store just outside of Seattle, glittering in the haze of a wet Wednesday afternoon.

The room felt very still and very quiet, as though the agents were the only two men on the planet, and Hotch set the ring down on the coffee table. Next, he pulled out the crumpled photo and small pen he carried with him at all times.

With shaking hands, the rainwater making small puddles, he wrote along that ruffled edge of the photo, set the ring on the corner and silently departed upstairs to check on his son.

_Once in a while you meet someone who's iridescent, who's radiant, and nothing else can compare. _

_Spencer, will you marry me?_

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><p><strong>:) please take a moment to review! Only one click!<strong>


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